by Alex Sanchez
“He’s the guy I mentioned last time,” Sergio explained, figuring that if his mom and dad were going to make a stink about it, he’d rather they do it now. “You’ll meet him when he comes to pick me up.”
His mom glanced anxiously at his dad, and his dad stared back across the table at her. Neither of them protested, though his mom lit a new novena candle that night.
On Saturday afternoon, Allie went to Lance’s to help him choose what to wear to the dance. While he pulled off one shirt and put on another, she glanced at his bare chest.
“What?” he asked, noticing.
“Nothing.” She gave a little sigh and replaced his discarded shirts on hangers.
“How about this one?” He slid into a tight Lycra long-sleeve T. “Too gay?”
“Yeah.” She cracked a grin. “But the shirt is nice.”
“Ha ha.” Lance tugged the shirt off. “So, should I take his mom flowers or something? Or would that seem like sucking up?”
“I think that would be sweet,” Allie said. “But not roses, a simple mixed bunch.”
“Good idea, thanks.” He gave her a peck on the cheek, and she made herself smile, wishing he got this excited when he went to dances with her.
On his way to Sergio’s, he stopped at the supermarket and picked out an autumn-color bouquet of golden calendulas, sunflowers, and red daisies.
“These are for your mom,” Lance whispered, when he got to Sergio’s.
“Oh, man! She’s going to love you.” Sergio led him to the living room and introduced him to his parents.
“Nice to meet you,” Mr. Martinez said, shaking hands. He was shorter than Sergio and had to tilt his head back to look up at Lance.
“Oh, thank you!” Mrs. Martinez said when Lance gave her the flowers. “You’re very thoughtful.” She asked Sergio to put them in water and invited Lance to take a seat. “I made some hot chocolate and dessert for you boys before you go.”
While she and Sergio went to the kitchen, Lance was left alone with Mr. Martinez.
“Um, you have a nice house,” Lance said.
“Thanks. Glad you like it.” They sat silent for a moment until Mr. Martinez asked, “Do you play basketball?”
“Um, only in gym class. I’m on the swim team, though. Yeah, my school has a really good team. We always rank in the top five of the county. . . . I learned to swim when I was like three. I love it. . . . Um, what sports do you like?”
“Soccer,” Mr. Martinez answered.
“I like soccer, too,” Lance said, even though he’d hardly ever played and seldom watched it.
“Were you nice to him?” Sergio asked his dad when he and his mom returned with the hot chocolate and dessert.
“I’m always nice,” his dad answered.
“Yeah, right.” Sergio rolled his eyes.
“This is called Tres Leches,” Mrs. Martinez said, passing Lance a slice of the sponge cake made with “three milks”: condensed milk, evaporated milk, and cream.
“It’s so frickin’ good,” Sergio told Lance. He handed his dad a bottle of lactose enzyme tablets, explaining to Lance, “My dad’s intolerant.”
“Too much milk,” Mr. Martinez clarified, “doesn’t agree with me.”
“Doesn’t the cake taste great?” Sergio asked as Lance took a bite.
“Delicioso,” Lance replied. “Gracias.”
“Ah! ¿Hablas español?” Mrs. Martinez asked.
“No, no, no.” Lance gave a nervous laugh. “That’s about all the Spanish I know.”
While they ate, Mrs. Martinez led the conversation, asking Lance questions about his family and school, and relating stories about her own growing up in Mexico. Then she told him about how, when Sergio was little, he used to wear a Spider-Man costume under his clothes at school.
“Really?” Lance grinned at him.
“Yeah, to be ready if somebody needed rescuing,” Sergio explained. Then he begged his mom, “Enough stories, okay?”
After they’d each eaten a second slice of cake, Sergio told Lance, “Come to my room. I want to give you something.”
The first thing that struck Lance about Sergio’s room was the wood shavings smell. The second thing was how messy the room was for a guy who dressed so neatly. CDs, video game cartridges, and magazines cluttered the dresser; a T-shirt hung off a bench-press set; and the teddy bear Lance had given him lay among the rumpled bedcovers. Lance almost felt like offering to straighten things for him.
“That’s Elton,” Sergio said, pointing to the guinea pig cage in the corner. “You can pet him if you want.”
“Um, okay.” While Lance stroked Elton through the wire, Sergio closed the bedroom door and brought Lance a gift-wrapped package. “Here, I got this for you.”
“What is it?” Lance asked.
“Open it, man. You got me something last time, so I wanted to get you something.”
Lance unwrapped a plush floppy-eared Irish setter. Its big brown eyes mirrored the warm fuzzy feeling that came over Lance. It was the first time a guy had ever given him something like that before. Even though Sergio said he wasn’t ready to be a couple, it sure felt like they were becoming one.
“Thank—”
Before Lance could finish, Sergio had wrapped his arms around him, standing on tiptoe, and kissed him. For a moment, Lance closed his eyes and melted into the kiss—more ready than ever to take things to the next level—if only Sergio’s parents weren’t down the hall.
By the time they arrived at Liberty High, the homecoming dance was under way. Inside the cafeteria, the lights were turned down low, music was blaring, and about thirty couples were dancing—mostly Latino and African-American students—including one girl couple. Nobody seemed to notice the two girls, and Lance didn’t pick up any homophobic vibes from anybody.
“’Sup, dudes?” Kimiko came over and fist-bumped Sergio and Lance. She was dressed like a total guy, with a man’s suit, tie, and a fedora she’d borrowed from her dad in place of her usual baseball cap. She’d come to the dance with Serena, though only as friends.
“You remember Lance?” Sergio told Serena, while noticing that her low-cut purple dress totally embellished her boobs.
“Yeah, hi,” Serena told Lance.
“Hi.” Lance smiled cheerily, even though he felt a little awkward from knowing she wanted to make out with Sergio.
“How is Allie doing?” Kimiko asked Lance. “What’s she up to tonight?”
“She’s fine. Just hanging with friends, I think.” He resisted mentioning Allie’s sex dream about her.
“Well, let her know I said hi,” Kimiko said.
While they were talking, Sergio spotted Zelda dancing with some black guy he’d never seen before. Was he the guy she’d dumped him for? Sergio shoved his fists into his pockets, suddenly feeling sulky and resentful. Zelda had never apologized for cheating on him. And yet he also felt a little embarrassed for her to see him at the dance with Lance, given how she’d argued that Sergio was gay, not bi.
But why should I feel embarrassed? Sergio thought. It’s none of her business.
“That’s Zelda.” Sergio pointed her out to Lance. “My ex I told you about.”
Lance looked over at the girl in the spaghetti-strap black dress. It felt weird to actually see a girl Sergio had had sex with. Lance still didn’t totally get the bi thing, but at least it didn’t trouble him as much as before.
“She looks nice,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
“Want to dance?” Sergio asked. A Latin set had begun and he was eager to get his mind off Zelda.
“Okay,” Lance said, “but I’m not exactly sure how to dance to this.” The only time he’d danced with a guy before was briefly when learning a new step during studio lessons his mom had paid for.
“Just follow my lead,” Sergio said, taking hold of his hand.
While Sergio led, Lance concentrated on following, ignoring a few people who stared. He wasn’t sure if they were staring because he and Serg
io were a guy-couple or because Sergio was such a good dancer.
“You dance great,” Lance said as they slid into the rhythm. “Where did you learn?”
“Mostly from videos,” Sergio said, bringing Lance in close, and then swinging him out.
“Really?” Lance loved the way Sergio’s body moved.
“You’re a good dancer too,” Sergio said.
Occasionally his gaze happened across Zelda, and she smiled at him as if totally unashamed to be seen with the guy she’d ditched him for.
“How’s it going?” she shouted when she got close enough to talk over the music.
“Good,” he replied, not really wanting to talk with her.
“Glad to hear that,” she yelled, sounding as though she meant it.
And suddenly he was the one who felt ashamed for still harboring a grudge against her. Yeah, it would be nice if she’d apologize for cheating on him. But apparently she wasn’t going to, so why bother hanging on to the resentment?
“How’s it going with you?” he shouted back to her.
“Good!” she said.
“Glad to hear that, too,” he replied and meant it. When the music changed to a slow song, he nestled into Lance’s arms, no longer embarrassed at all. It excited him to feel the muscles of Lance’s back and shoulders. And he felt genuinely happy that things had ended with Zelda so that he could be with him.
When the song ended, they met up with Kimiko and Serena at the refreshment counter. The four of them talked about differences between Latino and American pop music, and commented on people dancing, comparing different steps until Serena asked Lance, “Mind if I steal your partner for a bit?”
“Um, if you promise to give him back,” Lance said, half-grinning and half-serious.
Watching them dance together, he was totally impressed. They moved a lot better than Sergio and he did, almost like an ace dance team.
When the set changed to a fast rock song, some curly-haired guy began to dance with both Sergio and Serena in a threesome.
“Who is he?” Lance asked Kimiko.
“A guy Sergio went out with.”
“Um, yeah?” Lance’s stomach clenched with a twinge of jealousy and his anxiety returned. Was Sergio going out with the guy now?
When Sergio returned, Lance handed him a cup of ice water to help him cool down and asked, “So, um, is he your ex too?”
“Hector? Not exactly,” Sergio said, guzzling the water down. “We only made out a couple of times. He was too possessive.”
Lance cringed, recalling Darrell once telling him he was too clingy. He knew he should stop this conversation. But he couldn’t.
“Um, can I ask you something? Like, are you going out with anyone else now?”
Sergio thought about the question and tossed his empty cup aside. “Why do you want to know that?”
Lance gave a shrug. “I guess I’d like to know who my competition is.”
Sergio glanced across the dance floor, debating how to respond. Even though he wasn’t dating anybody besides Lance, the conversation was making him uneasy.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to talk about this,” he told Lance. “It feels like you’re trying to pin me down again. I told you I’m not ready to be a couple.”
“So then why did you invite me to homecoming?”
“Because I wanted you to come with me. I thought it would be fun.”
Lance gritted his teeth, remembering Allie telling him to “just go with the flow and have fun.” If only it were that easy. He watched the dancers and brooded.
“You want to dance some more?” Sergio asked.
“Sure,” Lance said, hoping to burn off his frustration. It helped when the DJ played “Electricity” from Billy Elliot the Musical, one of Lance’s favorites. The song seemed to express how scared, mixed-up, and mad he felt. As he danced and sang along, he gradually found himself also uncontrollably happy to be with Sergio . . . and once again eager to take things to the next level.
“You want to go to that place you took me to last time?” he asked Sergio after they’d said good night to Kimiko and Serena and were leaving the dance.
“You bet,” Sergio answered, knowing Lance meant the little lane where they’d made out. He was glad that Lance had gotten over his funk about dating and gave him directions back to where they’d parked beneath the poplar trees.
Sergio cracked the window a little, still feeling warm from dancing. Across the car, Lance smelled faintly of sweat and FIERCE cologne—a good smell. . . . Masculine . . . Sexy . . . Sergio leaned over, kissed him, and within seconds they were all over each other: arms circling, tongues in each other’s mouths, hearts pounding.
Lance’s heartbeat throbbed with anticipation for Sergio to move his hand back to his zipper like last time.
But Sergio didn’t. He was determined to let Lance set the pace, like Kimiko had suggested. He was sort of enjoying the thrill of wanting but waiting—at least for now.
This time it was Lance who felt impatient, even though he couldn’t blame Sergio for not making the move. After getting shot down last time, why would Sergio set himself up again? Lance could, of course, make the move himself, but that felt so bold. Instead, he began to nudge Sergio’s hand down toward his pants, hoping Sergio would get the hint.
At first, Sergio wasn’t sure what was going on, except that his hand was being bumped inch by inch down Lance’s torso . . . until it landed on his zipper.
I guess we’re moving on, Sergio thought, and the excitement of that possibility overcame the thrill of waiting. Figuring he wouldn’t get slammed again, he placed Lance’s hand on his zipper too. And sure enough, Lance kept it there this time; he didn’t pull away.
As they made out ever more feverishly, their hands moved and rubbed across the front of each other’s jeans. Fingers tested zippers. Pants were fumbled open.
Lance felt about to explode as Sergio slid his hand inside, grabbed hold of him, and—
“Ahhh!” Lance gasped in climax, as alternating waves of ecstasy and embarrassment surged through him. How had it happened so fast?
“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered. But before he could utter another word, Sergio was prompting his hand and—
“Whoa!” Suddenly it was Sergio who was gasping, almost as quick, giving Lance some consolation.
“That was awesome,” Sergio whispered, catching his breath, overjoyed that he hadn’t had to wait two months.
“It wasn’t too fast?” Lance asked.
“I guess I was excited,” Sergio said and leaned his head back on the headrest.
“Yeah, me too,” Lance said. Without realizing it, he began to hum. He felt so glad they’d moved to the next level. More than just glad—exuberant. In spite of his concerns about Sergio, he felt more connected to him than he ever had to Darrell. And unlike his sex attempts with Darrell, this time he felt like singing.
As soon as Lance got home, he called Allie. “We had hand sex!” he whispered into the phone even though his bedroom door was closed.
“Woo-hoo!” She giggled, picturing the scene in her mind.
“Mega-woo-hoo!” Lance replied. He’d never understood why Allie got so excited hearing about guy-on-guy action, but he didn’t mind.
“I’m not washing my hand for a year,” he continued, as he pulled his shoes off and told her about the homecoming dance and seeing Zelda. “It felt a little weird to see a girl he’d actually had full-on sex with. But I think I’m mostly over the bi thing. There was also a guy he’d gone out with. So, like, do you think I’m possessive?”
“Not with me,” Allie said, half-jokingly. “Do you mean with Sergio? Hmm. I wouldn’t say possessive—more like unsure . . . cautious . . .”
“Well, wouldn’t you be?” Lance asked. “We had hand sex. To me that means we’re a couple. Don’t you think so? And he gave me this really cute plush puppy. . . . Hey, by the way, Kimiko said to say hi. She looked really cute wearing a guy’s suit and tie and a hat.”
/>
“She’s so adorable with her whole boyish thing,” Allie said and began to brush her hair.
“So, how was your evening?” Lance asked, stroking the plush Irish setter.
Allie told him she’d hung out with Jenny, Jack, and Leo, another friend from their group. “He asked if I’m still going out with Chip. Jenny told me afterward that Leo said he wants to go out with me if I’m not seeing Chip anymore.”
“So, do you want to go out with Leo?” Lance asked.
“No. I like him as a friend, but not more than that. Besides, I’ve been thinking: Remember I told you about the last time I saw Kimiko and how I wondered what it would feel like to kiss her?”
“Are you going to try it?” Lance asked, sitting up in bed.
“I don’t know,” Allie said, continuing to brush her hair. “What if I’m not bi? I don’t want to ruin my friendship with her. I really, really like her.”
“Well . . .” Lance wiggled his toes, sore from dancing. “Maybe you should talk with her about it.”
“But what would I say?” Allie asked.
“Tell her what you just told me,” Lance suggested. “That you like her but you’re scared to mess up your friendship.”
After thinking about that a moment, Allie set her brush aside. “I wonder if Kimiko has ever gone out with anyone. She’s never mentioned it. Wait, that’s not true. Once she said she had zero experience with relationships. I should ask her. She probably thinks I’m a mess always asking her questions about stuff.”
“You’re not a mess,” Lance consoled her. “At least no more than me.”
They talked for a while longer before hanging up. Then Allie climbed into bed and read Book Three of Girl Panic. There was a lot more girl/girl kissing than in the first two, but none of the full-on sex action that so many boy/boy mangas had. She kind of wished there was.
One evening the week after homecoming, Kimiko planted herself on her bedroom carpet to write a poem she’d been putting off, due the next day for her creative writing class. When she opened her poetry notebook, the daisy from Allie’s car dashboard fell out onto her lap.
Kimiko had forgotten she’d saved the flower there, pressed between the pages. She brought it to her face and inhaled the faint scent, picturing Allie in her VW bug, singing to sixties songs, her blond curls whipping in the open-window breeze.